


Days When the Rain and the Sun Are Gone

by TheDirtyBirdie



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-16
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-05 08:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17321117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDirtyBirdie/pseuds/TheDirtyBirdie
Summary: It feels good to finally have something to hold over his older brother, right up until it doesn't anymore.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> * Been a long, long time since I read/watched Naruto faithfully, so hopefully, nothing's too off.  
> 
> * Obviously irl sibling incest is bad? Does this need a real disclaimer? I hope not.  
> 
> * Covers from when Sasuke is 13 through about 18/19 with Itachi 4/5 years older. (Nothing explicit happens underage).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>   
>  **16/01/19:**  
>  _minor revisions made_  
> 

When Itachi begins to grow distant, Sasuke begins to grow angry.

It feels as though something has changed overnight. Where his brother used to be warm, he is cold. Where he used to pull him close and indulge his whims and wants, he pushes him away, keeps him at arm's length and dismisses him without so much as a second thought.

It hurts. It makes him want to scream and cry and throw a fit like he hasn’t done in years. It makes him sad in a way he’s never, in his thirteen years, had to experience. He loathes it more than he can put into words. Resents the way it makes him feel weak and powerless, and so he forces the sadness to turn to anger, instead.

It’s not as though he doesn’t try, at first, but whatever he does, whatever he says, nothing seems to breach the distance between them- nothing stops Itachi from pushing him away, so he decides to push back, hard as he can.

Itachi won’t even sit with him for a game, so Sasuke refuses to give him so much as a kind word. Every conversation becomes one-sided, questions are left unanswered, he resolves not to even acknowledge his brother’s existence unless his parents are insisting on it.

* * *

They’re off on a family trip down the coast when their parents encourage them both to lean in closer for a photo, prompting Itachi to throw an arm around his shoulder. He goes stiff as a board at the contact. Shivers away despite the angry heat that builds in his chest, recoiling not quite enough to upset their parents, but just enough that Itachi will feel it. He brushes him off the second he’s able, shooting him a quick glare.

He’s almost sure that the wounded look on his brother’s face isn’t imagined, but it disappears too quickly to be certain. The pit of confused guilt that grows in his stomach seems confirmation enough.

* * *

A year passes, each day like this, the chasm between them growing wider by the moment.

* * *

Their parents have noticed the growing distance between them- how could they not- and his mother can see the way he’s hurting. She offers quiet assurances that this is just a phase, that it’s natural. Itachi is becoming a young man, preparing for university and focusing on his future. It’s only typical that he has less time for his family. For everyone. For Sasuke.

The problem is that he knows it’s not true. Knows his brother, knows he’d never be unable to find time for him if he truly wanted to. Which means- which means he doesn’t.

He’s a fool to let himself believe her words, despite what he knows to be true.

* * *

The worst part of it all is that Sasuke does, in fact, still know his brother quite well.

However cold the distance between them becomes, however far they push each other away, Sasuke has always known his brother’s heart better than anyone else. Sasuke knows he is loved.

It only makes it more impossible to understand why things have become the way they are, and that’s what makes it all the more difficult to cope with.

* * *

A year passes and Itachi is leaving, as he knew he would.

His bag is packed and their father is waiting by the door with his keys in hand, ready to drive him to the airport.

Their mother pushes him forward to hug his brother goodbye and Sasuke wants to cry and plead with him not to go. Cling to his legs and beg him to take him along, not to leave him behind, the way he used to when he was small.

Itachi steps forward to say goodbye and Sasuke can’t look at him, cuts his gaze to the floor, instead. He can hear Itachi's steps still, hear- if he’s not mistaken- the sharp breath he takes, with something almost pained laced just below the hitch of it, but then he lets it out slow and calm as anything and when he feels Itachi’s index finger press gently into his forehead, he can’t bring himself to look back up until he hears the door shut.

He knows that if he looks at his mother he’ll see the disappointment in her eyes, but it’s nothing compared to sound of his brother’s pained breath looping in his mind, real or imagined, combined with the surreal finality in the knowledge that his brother is gone.

It should feel satisfying- he thinks. Like a victory of some kind, but the suffocating hollow in his chest only grows deeper.

* * *

After that, it gets- not easier, but less consuming.

* * *

He can see the irony in his actions more clearly, as time goes by. He was so determined not to care- to seem unaffected by everything Itachi did, but it dictated every waking thought, every action- everything about him.

It’s still like that, some days. The bad days, when Itachi is home to visit and Sasuke aches for their lost closeness like a phantom limb, but for the most part, the soreness in his chest has lost its sharp edges and faded to something dull. Always there, but mostly something that can be ignored.

* * *

Itachi tries, sometimes, he thinks.

He’ll get a message out of the blue, so benign and simple that he wouldn’t think anything of it if it weren’t quite so meaningless. So blatantly unnecessary, utterly without a point to the degree that there can be no purpose served- nothing gained- except the knowledge that Sasuke will read it.

Sometimes, when Itachi is visiting home, he’ll pass by his room to inform him dinner is ready, as if their mother wouldn’t have done it a moment later, lingering there in the doorway just half a second too long to be casual.

The temptation- the desire to reach out and take whatever Itachi will give him, any sign of affection or caring- it’s so strong it makes him feel sick with missing him to stop himself. Still, though, he manages. The idea of rejection- the possibility of going through the raw pain of his brother pushing him away and leaving him behind yet again, it’s the only thing worse, and just enough to make sure he stays put, both literally and figuratively.

So, Itachi tries, sometimes, but Sasuke never does.

* * *

Sometimes, on particularly bad nights- the worst nights, he sneaks into his brother’s room. He waits until he knows his parents are asleep, and tip-toes inside to burrow under the cool covers of his brother’s empty bed. He never touches anything but the picture of the two of them sitting on the nightstand, lays there holding it with a white knuckle grip, staring at it and wondering why. Some nights, it’s only the risk of being caught here and having to explain himself that stops him from smashing it to pieces.

He’s always gone before the sun is up, bed left immaculately made, photo unscathed.

* * *

They see each other less and less. At first, Itachi is always home for the holidays, not to mention the occasional weekend, but over time it changes. There’s always some exam, some internship, some pressing course of study, some promotion on the horizon, and eventually he stops coming home, stops joining them on family holidays, stops seeing him altogether.

Their parents start going down to visit here and there, on weekends when exams have passed, but by then Sasuke’s own studies are intensifying and he has the excuse not to join them.

* * *

One spring, just a few months before Sasuke’s seventeenth birthday, Itachi comes home.

It’s only for a week, for a school break, but it’s- strange.

Even their parents are surprised. Clearly pleased, but surprised.

It’s been more than two years since Itachi has been home to visit, and something about the visit- something about him, has an unfamiliar itch running under his skin. It makes him want to fidget whenever Itachi is in the room. Makes his cheeks go hot and leaves him feeling unsettled, feeling watched. It takes him a couple days to realize that’s because he is. Being watched, that is.

Itachi’s eyes are on him, always.

He doesn’t understand why, his brother’s expression never gives anything away, never tells him anything, just serves to leave him feeling paranoid and confused. That must be it, really. Itachi must be playing a game with him, Sasuke only wishes he knew how to win. Instead, all he can do is refuse Itachi the knowledge of just how far under his skin he’s managed to crawl, and so he does his best to ignore it and keep it contained when he can’t quite manage that much.

* * *

A week after his seventeenth birthday, he finds the letters. 

* * *

Since his brother’s visit in the spring, something has changed.

They still aren’t talking, they still don’t see each other, but something in the way he thinks- the way the hurt between them had become almost dormant, moot, and has once again flared to life with sharp, burning clarity and edges of something he can't quite- something has changed, is the point, and it’s been driving him out of his mind.

It’s been a long, long time since he crawled into his brother’s empty bed in the night, a long time since he allowed himself, but tonight he feels- lost. Needs something to ground him.

As soon as he hits the mattress he notes that the picture that always occupied the nightstand is gone, Itachi must’ve gotten rid of it during his visit. The thought sends a pang of hurt through his chest, and it’s that pain that pushes him to open the drawer by the bed, hoping he’s wrong.

The picture is there, and when he sits up and lifts it out, it catches.

That’s all it takes.

When he lifts the false bottom and unearths- unearths himself, essentially- or rather, them, as they had been, his heart pounds hard enough to make him shake.

There are photos he’s never seen of the two of them together, happy, smiling sincere and wide in the way only kids can. He finds a pressed flower he’d brought Itachi as a child. There’s even a worn-out string bracelet he’d knotted together for him with clumsy fingers when he was small. Itachi had kept it on until it was frayed all over and ready to fall off.

Tears cloud his eyes and he can’t- can’t understand why his brother would keep these things so hidden if he felt the need to keep them at all, can’t fathom what his reason could be, not until he spots the letters.

They’re addressed to him, but he’s certain he’s never seen them. They’re clean and crisp and still carry the faintest smell of fresh ink when he lifts them from the drawer, like they’d been written and immediately put away, never touched again. He can’t quite manage to steady his hands, and the paper trembles in his fingers as he opens the first one, chosen at random.

* * *

What he learns, above all else, is that Itachi wants. He wants so many things.

Itachi wants to see him happy, to see him succeed, whatever that might end up meaning.

Itachi wants to do all that he can for him. Wants to be there for him, wants to lift him up and give him everything, whatever it takes.

Itachi wants to- to be with him through all these things. Wants to be with him always. Wants never to hurt him.

Itachi wants _him_. Plain and simple, in every way.

Even the ways he shouldn’t.

* * *

  

> _‘I wish things didn’t have to be this way, wish I could be anything but this.’_

> _‘The way you look when-’_

> _‘I miss your smile. I especially miss having you smile for me.’_

> _‘If keeping away is all I can do for you, I won’t consider it a choice.’_

> _‘Hurting you is the worst thing I've ever done. I cannot imagine a worse type of person than myself, to do this to you.’_

> _‘You’re a part of me, so deep under my skin I feel you there, always. I wish I could touch you. I want to be the one to-’_

> _‘You deserve so much better than I can offer you. As a brother. As-’_

 

Whatever else they say, the letters all end the same. 

 

> _' - Your loving brother, always.’_

* * *

He feels- he feels too much. His heart is soaring and sinking all at once, beating through his chest hard enough to make him dizzy and send a sore ache sprawling out under his ribs. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but when he hears the sound of footsteps in the hall- his father’s, he’s quite sure, wandering into the kitchen- it tears him from his haze and back into reality so suddenly it almost feels vicious.

He waits- terrified and shaking- until he hears nothing, and, quiet as he can manage, rights the bed and the dresser, putting everything but the letters back where it belongs.

They terrify him, but he can’t seem to let go.

He slips silently from the room and back to his own.

* * *

Once back in his room, curled up on his own mattress, he spends far too long just staring at the letters in his hands. He can’t bring himself to continue reading, can’t bring himself to put them down. He just- can’t.

Everything he’s read, it makes so much sense, and still he can't seem to comprehend it.

Itachi had pushed him away to protect him. He’d been afraid of himself, of his feelings. He wanted- wants- wants Sasuke in a way that feels so overwhelming he thinks he might be sick from the mess of emotions tugging and shifting, settling deep in the pit of his stomach and- yeah. Yeah, he’s going to be sick.

He barely makes it to the bathroom in time to wretch.

* * *

He doesn’t sleep, that night. Or the night after that.

Two full days are spent in a haze, his mother fussing over him, looking for a fever to explain the glaze over his eyes, the nausea, the cool sweats he finds himself prone to. He does his best to pass it off as a migraine, but he’s fairly certain he’s not being particularly convincing.

His mind still reels. The war of instincts inside him only seems to get messier, more tangled by the day, by the hour, even. He’s- he’s revolted, he thinks. He knows he should be, at the very least, wondering how many innocent moments were not as they seemed. Wondering how Itachi could be so- so selfish. To let his feelings get in the way, to abandon him, to feel as he does in the first place.

That's not all, though.

There are other things, too. Relief prominent among them. Relief at the knowledge- the confirmation, really, as he’d known all along- that his brother still loves him, cares for him, still tries only to do what’s best for him, even if it hurts them both. Love that is both like he craved and entirely different from anything he'd ever thought of, let alone expected, but more than he can grasp, all the same.

And, there’s something- something indefinable. Or- perhaps not that so much as something he simply isn’t ready to define. Not yet. Not even in his own mind. Something inevitable.

* * *

When he finally sleeps, he dreams of Itachi.

He wakes up hard, a longing, horrified ache in his chest, and refuses to acknowledge the clouding of his vision as anything other than sleep.

* * *

He tries to ignore it. Ignore the letters, ignore the dreams, ignore everything.

It never works.

So, instead, he decides to face it.

* * *

When he wakes up, it’s with the same knot of nauseous arousal that’s been plaguing him daily, every morning since he found the letters, always afraid to close his eyes for fear of the too-vivid images of like bodies intertwined that feel practically seared into his eyelids, at this point. This time, though, he doesn’t shy away.

With a heavy exhale, he closes his eyes and slips his hand under his waistband.

He finishes to the phantom feel of Itachi’s hands trailing over his skin and images of sharp features and dark eyes looming over him.

As his breathing evens out he waits for shame to wash over him. Waits for the weight of what he’s done, what he’s allowed to transpire in his own mind, to squeeze the breath from his lungs, but the feeling never comes. What he feels, instead, is closer to a sort of mourning.

* * *

Months go by, every morning is the same.

He waits for the other shoe to drop, but it never does.

That’s not to say it feels entirely right, exploring these new feelings, it just doesn't quite feel wrong for the reasons he knows it should. Instead, it rekindles the lonely ache in his chest in an entirely new way. It’s almost worse than the last time, because now he misses Itachi in all these new ways he’s never even had him, and knows he’s missed back just the same.

It’s enough to make him hurt, yet not enough to change anything, it seems.

* * *

He knows it’s not possible, what he- what they want from each other. It can’t be. It could never be. He knows this.

It’s not something that they could ever get away with, even if they were more anonymous. Even if they didn’t have the expectations on their shoulders that they do, the family that they do, the recognition that they do. Without all of that, it would still be wrong, they look so alike that the smallest slip would give them away, they could never be seen as anything less than brothers, even to strangers. With all of it- it’s more than wrong. It’s unthinkable.

The knowledge of this should be enough to stop his thoughts, if not his desires, in their tracks. Should be enough to shut down any other ideas as irrational, a waste of time. Never going to happen.

Instead, it serves to force him into confronting the uncomfortable but undeniable truth that there is very little he wouldn’t give up for Itachi, even in the way of family.

It’s impossible, he knows this, but it doesn’t always feel that way.

* * *

Would Itachi ever cross that line? If Sasuke were to let him, would he be willing to reach out and take, when he’s already so convinced it’s the worst thing he could do to either of them? To Sasuke, especially?

He wants- he hopes so.

He wonders if he, himself, could truly do it. Wonders if he would ever have the nerve to take that step, risk everything just for the possibility of having his brother with him, in every way he's grown to need him. Every way they need each other.

* * *

The winter before Sasuke is due to begin university, his parents announce that they’ll be going on a family vacation, Itachi included.

The windfall of nervous anticipation that sweeps through his chest provides Sasuke with his answer.

* * *

For all that he loves him, wants him, needs him, Itachi is still very much still the perfect, untouchable older brother, who, between them, has always held the upper hand. Given that, he can’t entirely resist the opportunity to make him suffer, just a little.

* * *

When Itachi comes home, Sasuke acts as he always has, these past few years. Sullen indifference in his presence, one word answers to his questions- as if he ever asks any without prompting from his parents. He doesn’t let Itachi notice that anything is amiss, with one small exception.

Now that he knows what he’s looking for, knows what it means when he catches Itachi looking at him, he looks back. Holds his gaze until there’s heat bubbling up under his skin, skittering across his nerves, screaming at him to reach out and touch.

He’s not sure what he sees in Itachi’s eyes, as hard to read as he’s always been, but it’s- it’s something. Something besides the stoic masks and false smiles that have followed him through his teens. It’s something real.

* * *

It’s just past four, and Sasuke is not sleeping.

He should be, but he is not, because Itachi is in the next room, also not sleeping.

Originally, he’d thought the soft sounds drifting through their shared wall might lull him to sleep, soothing as it is to have him nearby again. Instead, he’s found it impossible to let his mind slow enough to drift off. Rather, he’s been stuck wondering what is Itachi doing, what is he thinking of, could it be him?

He’s stuck on that thought, suspecting he already knows the answer, when the sounds in the next room pick up, having tapered off in the last thirty minutes, or so.

He can hear him rustling around in the next room, his movements sound frantic. It was never unusual, when he still lived at home, for Sasuke to hear him up late, typing on his computer, stretching, but there were rarely more sounds than one would expect from activities so simple. This is different. He can hear him moving things around, drawers opening and closing, boxes being opened. He’s searching, and Sasuke’s fairly certain he knows what for.

When he gets to his feet, it’s a bizarre combination of detachment and adrenalin that pushes him out the door and lets him slip into Itachi’s room without calling out to see if it’s alright, first.

He’s met by the sight of Itachi, infuriatingly calm despite his unexpected presence, though he suspects that won’t last, leaning back against the desk that's pressed up below his window. He lets himself settle against the wall, far too casual for how little they’ve spoken, but needing the cool of it to help him feign a casual exterior. The false bottom to the drawer is sitting on Itachi’s mattress, along with the contents, and he has a letter- freshly penned, if the stationary out on the desk is anything to go by- between his fingers.

“Isn’t it a bit late for a visit, little brother?” Itachi asks with concern that may not be entirely false, but is certainly misplaced.

Sasuke wants to quip back, wants to play with Itachi as his older brother has always done with him, wants to drag this out as long as he can, but more than that- more than that he wants to wipe that dismissive, horridly nothing smile right off his face. He’s seen enough of it in the last few years to last him many lifetimes over.

He nods towards the letter in his brother’s grasp. “Is that one for me, too?”

Itachi- Itachi does nothing. Truly, sincerely, nothing. He goes entirely still, as still as anyone could ever be. He doesn’t breathe, he doesn’t speak, for a beat Sasuke feels frozen in time for how his brother simply stops. It pulls his awareness to the anxious beat of his heart rushing through his ears and it’s through sheer force of will that his hands don’t start trembling with the near painful bite of anticipation buzzing under his skin.

“What are you talking about?” Itachi asks- demands, really, and it’s so unlike him. This voice, this look- something akin to fear woven through and lighting up his eyes- that Sasuke feels compelled to step forward, closer and closer until he can’t go any nearer for fear that he won’t be able to step back again.

“Don’t worry, Itachi,” He reaches out without breaking his brother’s gaze, surprised at the steadiness of his own voice, fire lancing through his veins where their fingers brush as he takes the letter from him. From this close, it’d be impossible to miss the way Itachi flinches, slight as it is, only to sway forward again. “I’ll put it with the rest.”

There’s one heavy, terrifying moment that he sees, with too-vivid clarity, what it might be like if he were to take that last step forward, wind his hands through his brother’s long hair and yank, taste the terror set in the lines of his brother's mouth and-

He forces himself to step back, turning away from Itachi’s wide, dark eyes, and slip from the room, instead. He has a plan to stick to, though, the choked out whisper of his name that follows him into the hall nearly derails it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * POV switch halfway through

He’s not sure when, exactly, his feelings towards his little brother began to change- expand, but he wakes up one morning with the viscerally clear knowledge that they have done so.

When Sasuke runs up to him and throws his arms around his waist as he does most mornings, smiling up at him with wide, joyful eyes, entirely unassuming, like there’s no-one else he’d rather be near, the wave of self-loathing that pushes through his veins and settles heavy in the pit of his stomach is near enough to knock him off his feet.

He steels himself against the heartbreak he knows he’s about to see shining up out of his brother’s eyes and steps back, detangling himself from Sasuke with a cheap smile and an even cheaper promise of another day, perhaps. Walking away feels like leaving a part of himself behind. Something irreparable.

Really, it shouldn’t feel so large as it does, it should be easier to compartmentalize, walk away and stay in the moment, that’s something he’s always been good at, but then again, his brother has always made him soft, so maybe it’s no surprise. He’s always been the one thing that allowed him the vulnerability of shutting down his instincts. A vulnerability he can no longer afford.

* * *

Sometimes, he’s weak.

Some days he misses his brother too much to resist contact. It’s never much, he won’t allow it, but he’ll send some inane message or other just to see that Sasuke’s read it. To see that he still cares enough to open Itachi’s messages at all, if not enough to respond to them.

It shouldn’t please him to see that he does.

Sasuke hating him, it’s what he wants, really- no. No, that’s not right. It’s not what he wants at all, but it’s what he knows is best for both of them, to have his little brother push him as far away as he can stomach. All the same, knowing it’s for the best doesn’t quell the hurt or longing that makes his chest feel as though it’s caving in when he lets his thoughts linger over what they’ve become- what he’s turned them into- a little too long.

* * *

On the rare occasion he does see his brother, it’s always difficult to say which reaction wins out between the relief of seeing him and guilt that comes along with the renewed depth of his longing- as if it ever truly fades. As if he isn’t consumed by it and motivated by the guilty revulsion of it, of himself, in everything he does.

It’s no different this time around, though, he feels somehow more at peace about it.

* * *

One day the realization hits him with enough force to knock the breath from his lungs- he can’t continue, not like this, he needs to be home, see his brother, if only briefly. He misses him so, so dearly, and while his wants haven’t faded, they have dulled. He’s faced them for years, now, it’s not so impossible to think that maybe- perhaps he can manage this, now. They’ll never be as close as they were, but if he’s careful maybe they can be brothers, again, at least. They can manage that much.

So, he goes home. It’s only a few days, but it’s something.

He wishes he could say he keeps his resolve, keeps the same confidence in the new control he’s gained over his impulses, but- he can’t. The moment he sees his brother, hardly willing to look his way, something crumbles in his chest at the burning need to pull him close that hollows him out, leaving nothing but ash in its wake. Nothing has changed. He has not changed.

He’s come too far to let himself become weak, now.

* * *

That night, he writes a letter.

* * *

A few months later, his parents announce that they’re planning a family vacation, he only agrees to go because he fully intends for this to be the last time he sees anyone in his family for a long, long time. He’s been offered the opportunity to further pursue his studies under someone top in his field, and he intends to accept as soon as he’s back home. Less to advance his career, though that will be his reasoning for everyone else, and more because the position will take him overseas, far enough to make convenient visits near impossible.

It’s comforting, in a way. It takes a little weight off of his shoulders, knowing he only has to get through this visit and then he won’t have to worry about his- desires, for at least a few years. He has the fleeting thought that perhaps, this visit, he can relax, just a little.

* * *

As has become his habit, Sasuke makes quick work of dashing his hopes.

* * *

Something is off.

His brother has always drawn the eye, his own and many others, and Itachi does not resist looking near as hard or often as he should. Because of this, he doesn’t look away as knows he ought to when he gets caught appreciating the graceful curve of his brother’s neck, on display as Sasuke tilts his head back against the cushioned bench of the restaurant their parents have dragged them out to.

The low light casts shadows that compliment him particularly well, though sometimes it’s hard to imagine there’s much at all that could diminish his brother’s good looks.

Instead of looking away, Itachi meets his brother’s gaze with a beatificial smile, only partly forced, and expects him to simply scowl and look away as he always has, in recent years. That’s not what happens, though. Sasuke matches his look head on, making no effort to soften or sharpen his expression, he simply stares back.

It makes something buried deep under Itachi’s skin crawl with uncertainty.

He doesn’t know, of course, he can’t possibly- could never know. It’s impossible, he knows this.

Still, Itachi is the first to drop his gaze.

* * *

He sits up on his computer, going over various research notes without truly considering any of the words in front of him, just an excuse to kill time and occupy his mind. He waits until the house has gone silent, and then allows his paranoid habits to take hold, kneeling by the small bedside table and removing the false bottom from the drawer with his heart in his throat.

The letters are gone.

* * *

It’s sheer survival that forces him to relax when Sasuke appears in his doorway. He leans back against the desk, minutely comforted by the knowledge that he’s sure enough of himself to appear causal, rather than unsteady as he feels. He tightens his grip on the desk behind him just to stay upright against the panic swelling in his chest, threatening to tear him apart.

His ability to stay composed doesn’t last long, regardless.

“Is that one for me, too?” Sasuke’s face could almost be innocent- all in those wide eyes, if it weren’t for the way the tone of his voice betrays what Itachi can’t bring himself to acknowledge, just yet. He does his best to curb the panic clawing its way up his throat when he asks what, exactly, Sasuke means, but it comes out as more a demand, much less than the casual inquiry he’d hoped it would come off as. Not so easy. It only serves to throw him further off kilter, he’s not used to having to struggle in deceit.

“Don’t worry, Itachi,” Sasuke steps closer, so close. Closer than they’ve been in years and the adrenalin heightens his senses to the point it feels impossible to be aware of anything but the collapsing in his chest and the proximity of his brother- he’s certain if he just got a little closer he’d be able to feel the body heat he can see in the flush of his brother’s cheeks. The opposing strengths of the needs to pull away versus the need to reach out- it leaves him feeling sick with the urgent need to do something, the paralyzing fear of exactly that.

Up close like this, he can see the details of his brother’s face- one he’s grown into more than Itachi has had the chance to observe- nearer than he has since he was a child. It aches, to see all the time he’s missed written over the face of the person he loves most.

Sasuke’s fingers brush against his own, and the way the touch makes his nerves sing is almost intense enough to stop him from hearing what he says next. Almost.

“I’ll put it with the rest.”

Sasuke leaves, and he wouldn’t even be aware of his brother’s name being torn from his own throat if it weren’t for the way Sasuke’s step falters ever so slightly, not enough to stop him, though. The door slides shut behind him, and Itachi is left alone with his greatest shame. He has failed them both.

He has done all he could- he has built his entire life around protecting his brother. Given up years of closeness, chosen his school, his work, his home- all to protect Sasuke. All to stop him from discovering this one thing, and in the end the one piece of sentiment he allowed himself has ruined him. Ruined them both.

Ruined his brother, who never should’ve had to bear the weight of what Itachi has become. The things he feels. It was bad enough to let him be effected at all- to push him away and see the hurt he felt reflected in his own heart- this, though, is something else entirely. Something worse.

Itachi is no coward, he doesn’t shy away from doing something difficult simply because it is so, he doesn’t put himself first, but- he cannot bring himself to face this. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.

He lays awake and tries to breathe through the weight of what he’s done crushing his lungs from the inside out, trying and failing to convince himself to go to Sasuke’s room and face this head on. It feels impossible.

He can’t imagine- he is at a loss. What can he do, now? What could he possibly say? How can the situation be salvaged?

The simple answer is that it cannot.

He will follow his little brother’s lead, until he thinks of something- anything else. If Sasuke wishes to expose him, cut him from his life entirely, humiliate him- he cannot think of much he wouldn’t deserve.

* * *

* * *

* * *

He doesn’t miss the deepened shadows under Itachi’s eyes the next morning. More than anything, it makes him want to put him out of his misery, pull his brother close and run his fingers along the creases etched below his eyes, set his mind at ease, but he can’t- not yet. Luckily, it also makes him want to poke and prod- tease, just a little, among other things. That’s the course of action he chooses to pursue.

They’re alone in the kitchen, Itachi doesn’t look up when he sits next to him, close enough for their elbows to brush, but he feels him go still at the touch. It’s near imperceptible in how brief it is, but he knows his brother well, he’s already looking for it.

They eat in silence, and when Sasuke finishes his breakfast he lets himself stretch, just a little, nothing unseemly, simply pulling back his shoulders with a sigh and stretching his legs out ever so slightly. Itachi still won’t look at him, but he doesn’t miss the deepening misery in the set of his shoulders. It makes him ache in more ways than one.

He doesn’t entirely love causing Itachi this hurt, but he does love the knowledge that he has the power to do so, whenever he wants, in such simple ways.

* * *

It’s his own good luck that their father is called away on an urgent business errand during a game of shogi with Itachi, just as Sasuke happens to be passing by. Fugaku prompts him to take his place and he accepts without hesitation, taking his father’s seat before Itachi can find a reason to leave. Though, he does try.

“Excuse me, Sasuke.” Itachi’s voice is too even as he moves to stand. It makes him itch with the need to throw him off balance. “I’m afraid I can’t-”

“No.” He’s reached out to stop his brother before Itachi could rise fully to his feet, hand tight around his wrist. “Don’t go.”

They’re both staring down at Sasuke’s grip over his wrist. It’s the first time in years they’ve really, deliberately touched, the first time it’s been more than a fleeting glance of skin over skin. It startles out a more honest plea than he’d meant to give. “I’ve- missed you. Brother.” He clears his throat, hoping to dispel the lingering nervousness that it’s his own balance he’s ruined. “Please, stay.”

Their eyes meet briefly, but significantly enough to feel what passes between them. Sasuke wonders what Itachi sees in his face- tension, reluctance, pleading- ultimately, it doesn’t matter, the result is the same. Sasuke loosens his hold, and Itachi sits as he pulls his hand back entirely.

They play for a long time before Itachi breaks the silence between them. There’s a careful quality of nothingness to his voice when he speaks.

“Did you truly miss me?”  
“You know I did.”

More silence.

“Will you, still?”

Itachi’s voice has changed so subtly he has to wonder if he’s merely imagined it. Sasuke swallows hard around the lump that’s risen in his throat.

“Always.”

His brother looks stricken.

They carry out the rest of their game without speaking another word to each other, when Itachi leaves Sasuke stays where he is, staring out at the property for what feels like too long. The sky has gone dark by the time he moves.

* * *

Things are not going quite as he’s planned, but while he’s packing that night in preparation for their flight tomorrow morning, he considers the fact that it will almost certainly be a good opportunity. His parents have booked two first class cabins, each with a two person capacity. One for themselves, one for he and Itachi.

There will be nowhere for Itachi to run off to, no excuse to ignore him, not much in the way of distraction.

It’s perfect. Perfect enough that tamping down the nerves that swell under his skin is more than a bit of a struggle. Some days it’s hard to tell which of them he’s causing more problems for.

This isn’t- it’s not quite fun, like he thought it might be, but it does make him feel good, in a way. It’s addicting. He can feel the way his brother wants him, see how easy it might be to make him bend with a little pushing. He’s never imagined that he- or anyone- could have such control over his brother. Craved it, but never truly believed it.

It’s too intoxicating to let go of that control just yet.

* * *

Itachi is avoiding him, even more so than before. As much as he can manage while being shuffled through various airport lines and shuttles, that is. He’s almost grateful for it, his frustration with his brother makes it easier to refocus himself. Push away his own conflicted feelings and remind himself of the goal he’s been quickly losing sight of.  

It’s clear that their parents assume that they must be pleased to be spending the flight together, they have no reason to think otherwise, and Sasuke sees it as a perfect chance to needle at his brother’s controlled exterior. They’re seated at the gate when Mikoto asks if it’s nice to finally be able to spend some time together after so long, and Sasuke leans full body against his brother, head dropped onto his shoulder.

“Can’t wait.” He says with a smile, savouring the feel of the most minute shiver run through his brother.

* * *

It’s rare for Itachi to show his nerves, and Sasuke wonders if they’re truly so clear, or if they’ve just become easier to see now that he knows, beyond a doubt, that they must be there. Perhaps he’s not showing them at all, and Sasuke is only seeing what he knows is there, regardless.

It makes no real difference.

* * *

They’re a couple hours into the flight when Sasuke calls the flight attendant to have their chairs folded down and made up into a bed. He doesn’t ask beforehand and when Itachi sends a sharp look his way, he just shrugs and affects what he suspects is a less than innocent smile, going by the way it feels across his lips.

* * *

Once they’ve settled on opposite ends of the bed, Sasuke waits for Itachi to settle back into his book before he brushes his ankle against his older brother’s. Itachi moves his foot away without even a look.

Sasuke does it again.

Itachi moves, again.

Something deeply childish and just a little giddy is bubbling up behind his ribs, delighted to have found such a simple and, honestly, juvenile way to rile his brother up. He knows how Itachi hates to be brought down, made undignified, and there’s little less dignified than a grown man and his almost equally grown brother squabbling like children, especially in their- situation.

He brushes his ankle against his brother’s again, and sees Itachi’s knuckles go white around the book he’s holding. He manages to hold back the grin that wants to spring free over his face, but only just. He shifts his ankle to the side again, and this time Itachi huffs quite pointedly as he shuffles away. Sasuke has to bite his cheek to keep from giving anything away when he does it yet again.

“Sasuke.” Itachi’s tone is almost scolding and while that does hold a certain new appeal that warrants further exploration, it’s not what he’s focused on, right now. 

“Itachi.” Sasuke replies, polite to the point of patronizing, though he’ll never admit it.

The look Itachi sends him should probably make him feel a bit worse than it does- it’s conflicted, certainly. He looks like he wants to glare, but he’s not sure he can allow himself to, given- everything. Sasuke finds it deeply amusing.

He moves again and Itachi’s book drops onto his lap, this time there is no hesitance in his voice.

“ _Sasuke._ ” The only exception to the childish glee that fills Sasuke at the annoyance in his brother’s voice is the way his heartbeat ticks up just a little more than warranted.

“Itachi.” He replies, again, still too pleased with himself for his own good. It seems strange, to say he’s missed something so ridiculous as testing his brother’s patience, but he truly has, though as a child he’d never done this quite so insidiously as he is now.

Naturally, he does it again.

“Cut it out, Sasuke.” Itachi warns, and it only spurs him to do it again.

“I only want to be close to you, brother.” Sasuke says, half pleading, faux innocent, and definitely not fooling either of them. Itachi looks torn between kicking him and throwing himself out of the plane to avoid the situation entirely. When Sasuke does it again, he tosses his book to the side, a lost cause, and grabs his ankle to still him, grip firm, voice hard when he speaks.

“What are you doing, Sasuke?”

Sasuke- Sasuke can’t seem to think past the slide of his brother’s thumb drawing over the curved bone of his ankle well enough to form much in the way of coherent thought, let alone put together a decent answer. He knows he’s staring at the movement, and when he finally looks up to meet Itachi’s eyes, that’s when his older brother seems to catch himself at what he’s doing. He pauses, and for a moment they both go still, staring. Waiting.

It feels like his heart is being held in a vice, weight pressing down on his chest as he anticipates- something. Anything. The pull of his brother so near, so focused on him, it’s almost magnetic. The knowledge that he can’t even- shouldn’t reach out and touch him like he wants to-

More deliberately, this time, Itachi’s thumb traces the swell of bone under his skin. The intensity in his eyes is- intimidating- not entirely unexpected, but certainly unsettling, to say the least. When he speaks, there’s a vulnerability clinging to his voice that’s somehow even more destabilizing.

“What is it you think you’re doing, little brother?”

“I-” Sasuke swallows, throat suddenly gone dry and raw with nerves. “I don’t-”

This is the moment that their mother chooses to appear, sliding open the flimsy partition of their cabin to check in on them. Sasuke startles badly enough to feel sharp pain lance out through his nerves, but he doesn’t let it show. Nor does Itachi, assuming he felt it anything approaching equally. He suspects so. Hopes so.

The plan was to make Itachi lose his footing, and while he’s fairly sure it’s working, he seems to be dragging himself down right along with him.

Itachi excuses himself to use the washroom, and Sasuke has the bed folded back into chairs by the time he comes back.

Eventually, he drifts off, and while he’s almost certain he feels cool fingers drifting across his temple, smoothing his hair down and away from his face, he can’t bring himself to turn it into ammunition in this game he’s created. He lets it be, appreciates the half-dreamed touch.

* * *

They are, of course, sharing a room. Their parents have rented out a suite, two bedrooms, three beds. One is entirely their own, one is for Itachi and Sasuke to share, as usual.

Itachi lets him have first pick of the beds, but he’s back to refusing to meet his eyes and it doesn’t feel like any kind of win at all.

* * *

Very little time ends up being spent in the hotel room, or apart from their parents, so Sasuke makes due with the situations he’s given. Pushing Itachi’s buttons where he can, sitting too close, leaning into his space with whatever inane question he can get away with, wearing his shirts mostly undone and pleased to find he gets away with it quite nicely, the weather being what it is.

* * *

He’s getting dressed for a morning intended to be spent mostly wandering through some local markets when he spots one of Itachi’s shirts peeking out of his suitcase. He can’t resist.

The fit is a little loose, but it flows nicely, feels soft and obscenely expensive over his skin, though, the best part of all is the way his brother’s scent lingers, clinging to the fabric just enough to stir up a warmth in his abdomen that has nothing at all to do with the sunny skies.

When Itachi sees him in it, he’s half expecting- anything, really. A scolding, a- well, anything.

Instead, Itachi just stares for a long moment, face unreadable, and vanishes into their room- where he’d already been headed without saying a word as Sasuke wanders out to the living room to meet their parents.

His brother has always looked at him, but today he feels his gaze lingering like a physical touch. He’s not certain whether it’s that he no longer cares to hide it, or that he’s unable to.

He hopes it’s the latter.

* * *

He expects to have more trouble sleeping than he does, between the heat and his brother being so nearby, but rather than keeping him on edge Itachi’s soft breathing and the white noise of the fan lull him to sleep quite easily.

Judging by the deepening circles under his brother’s eyes, he’s the only one to be so lucky.

* * *

He can’t help Itachi to sleep, but he can, perhaps, make his nights a little more enjoyable.

* * *

Sasuke feigns sleep until just past three. He knows his brother is still awake, his breathing having never quite settled enough to pass for asleep, sincere or fake.

He’s lying mostly on his stomach, leg slung over one of his pillows with his arms folded under the one his head rests on, and he lets out a soft, drawn out noise, somewhere between a moan and a groan, feels the scratch of his throat as he rocks his hips down into the pillow. His voice has already gone rough with a few hours of disuse.

He rocks into the pillow until the sound of Itachi’s breath in the other bed has stopped altogether and he can’t stand the warm, thick pressure that’s building and tensing in his gut a moment longer without some decent relief. With a whine that’s only half-deliberate he kicks off the blankets and drags a hand out from under his pillow and down to palm at his stiffening cock through the thin cotton of his underwear.

He feels electrified and humiliatingly aroused by the knowledge of his brother’s closeness.

When he rolls onto his back, giving up all pretence of sleep to be able to get himself off properly, he lets his head fall to the side and immediately finds Itachi’s eyes boring into his own. The heaviness in his eyes seems to sink into Sasuke’s own gut like led, hit all at once with the severity of what they’re doing and the fathomless force of his own desire for it. The comprehension of how little he cares about as long as he can have this.

That’s all it takes to send him over the edge and he chokes on his own grunt of release, body going stiff and achingly hot all over as he spills over his own stomach, cock peeking out from his waistband. He only barely manages to keep working himself through his orgasm as his muscles seize up.

He’s not sure at what point he closed his eyes, but when he opens them again, feeling boneless and raw, Itachi is gone.

* * *

He showers quick, scrubbing at his skin hard enough it’s near ready to bleed, and tries to focus on anything but the hollow feeling in his chest. The fact that his brother is still gone when he goes back to bed.

He doesn’t sleep. Itachi doesn’t come back.

* * *

When he leaves the room to meet his parents for breakfast, his brother is there, not looking particularly well rested, but there nonetheless. To Sasuke, he feels wrong. The way he holds himself- the set of his eyes- everything, but no one else seems to have caught onto the fact that something is- off. As off as it is, at least.

Things between them are- strange. Everything about them has been strange for a long, long time, but this isn’t like any of that. There’s something about the tension that seems almost suspiciously absent that’s set Sasuke’s nerves on edge. A contradiction he doesn’t appreciate. There’s just something about the exhausted set of his bones that has guilt gnawing at his gut.

He’s only half aware of the conversation happening without him, until his mother taps him on the elbow.

“Are you feeling alright, Sasuke?” She asks, gently. He looks around to find his mother and father both looking at him with concerned eyes, Itachi seems to be focused on some inane point in the wallpaper. “I’m- fine. It’s just the heat, don’t worry about it.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best you rest today, Sasuke.” His father suggests, though, it’s more than a suggestion, really. Regardless, it’s well meant, and he appreciates it in a distant way, mind mostly preoccupied.

“Mhmm. It works out quite well, with Itachi spending the day off on his own, your father and I can have a day to ourselves.” She turns her attention back to his father as they both agree that yes, a day to themselves would be quite nice, indeed, but Sasuke’s mind is stuck on the fact that Itachi has, apparently, already made plans for himself.

A part of him wants to argue, grab hold of Itachi and refuse to let him leave his sight. He’s- scared, he thinks, that Itachi might be about to slip through his fingers somehow. Scared he’s pushed this game too far and now the tiredness in his brother’s eyes has grown bone deep in a way he can’t salvage.

It’s that fear which pushes him so sickeningly far into indecision that he says nothing at all.

* * *

He spends all day feeling listless, too lost in his own confused thoughts to make sense of anything, nauseous anxiety crawling its way under his skin with the way his mind feels caught on a loop. He can’t stand the feeling. He loathes it.

It seems impossible to say what he should’ve done- impossible to think there ever could be a way to go about doing something that is, at its core, so wrong, the right way- but still. This- this may not have been the brilliant plan he’d hoped it would be.

* * *

Sasuke is sitting at one of the small desks in their room, killing time on his laptop to stave off the feelings of dread that’ve been biting at his heels all day. He’s almost convinced himself Itachi isn’t coming back tonight, either, when his brother slips in the door. Something about the way he does it makes Sasuke think he must’ve been standing outside for more than a moment.  

Sasuke can’t breathe- too caught up in waiting to see what Itachi will do next. His brother seems to wobble for a moment, letting himself half collapse back against the door without any real focus until his eyes land on Sasuke and his face twists up into an expression that makes Sasuke’s heart ache in both the best and worst ways.

Itachi immediately lurches forward, less steady than Sasuke’s ever seen him, stumbling towards the desk. He’s been more or less able to smell the liquor wafting off of his brother from the moment he stepped into the room, but he can’t bring himself to be bothered by it when Itachi is collapsing at his feet, clinging to his legs as he himself likely did to Itachi as a child.

Sasuke is horrified to find he sounds so near to tears, such a heavy warble to his voice when he speaks.

“I’m- I’m so sorry, little brother.” Itachi chokes out. He’s closer to ruin than he’s ever seen or heard him. Sasuke bends to take Itachi’s face in his hands, not sure when they started trembling, but his brother flinches away from his touch, swaying dangerously. “Don’t- please. Sasuke, don’t touch me. You can’t- I’m wrong. There’s something so wrong with me.” Sasuke wishes he could believe the sob that nearly breaks Itachi’s words was imagined. “You deserve so much better.” He trails off, muttering a thousand ugly things to himself.

Sasuke- Sasuke feels like he’s suffocating. He never should’ve pushed like he did. Dragged this out like he did.

This time, when he reaches out to steady his brother, he doesn’t give Itachi a chance to flinch away. Something like relief, if a little mournful around the edges, seems to radiate inwards, saturating his fingers and traveling up to warm his chest.

He wants to tell his brother that it’s not true- say there’s nothing wrong with him, wrong with this. Unfortunately, neither of them are foolish enough to find any comfort in a lie so stark.

“There’s no one better than you. Not for me.” Itachi’s eyes rise to meet his, and the way his eyes shine up at him- he’s- he won’t know what to do, if Itachi cries. He’s never seen his brother cry, not even when they were children. He’s not entirely sure he wants to be the one to make it happen.

It doesn’t appear as though he has a choice.

The shine of his eyes overflows, and Sasuke brushes the tears away with his thumbs.

“I’m sorry, Itachi.”

“No. No, no, Sasuke, that’s not right.” He’s reaching up, wrapping his hands around Sasuke’s arms, and he half expects him to try and pull his hands away but instead he holds them it a grip so tight it’s almost a plea to stay, a direct contradiction to his words. “You have nothing to apologize for. It’s me who-”

“Everything I did-” Sasuke tries, but Itachi just keeps speaking.

“-I deserved it. I did. Push me away, please. I can’t- anymore.” A shuddering breath seems to wrack his entire body. Sasuke feels he can almost see the energy drain for him as he shrinks when the air leaves him. “I’d understand.” He continues, quieter, less frantic, finally dropping his eyes. “I’m disgusting. You should hate me. I do. You should- you should want me dead-”

He feels guilt, thick and heavy, churning in his gut as he slips out of the chair and sinks down into his brother’s lap, prompting a choked off sob from Itachi as he falls somewhere between the obligation to flinch back and the need to be close. Sasuke takes the choice from him as he leans his forehead against his brother’s and lets his hands slip down through his hair, over his shoulders to wrap around him and keep him close.

“Itachi, stop.”

Everything about the situation is objectively, inarguably awful, but everything inside him still sings at the closeness of his brother after so many years of near estrangement.

“I’m sorry.” Itachi whispers, the bone deep exhaustion Sasuke had been able to see in his eyes this morning seeming to seep out through his voice and into their shared touch, setting into Sasuke’s own body.

“Come on,” Sasuke sighs. “We can talk more in the morning. Bed, now. You need to sleep.”

* * *

It’s a bit of a struggle, but he manages to get Itachi to cooperate so he can get him stripped down to his underwear, gentle, but not willing to linger too long. This isn’t how he wants anything to happen, when they finally breach that boundary he wants it to be- different, is all.

Once Itachi’s clothes are gone, he loses his own and crawls in after him, pulling the blankets up over them. He half expects Itachi to protest, to push him away, spewing more talk about how awful he is and how wrong they are, but instead Itachi says nothing, just pulls him in close, hands desperate and searching like he thinks he might never get to touch him again.

Really, if Sasuke thinks about it, that’s likely exactly what he thinks.

He pushes as close as he can, burying his face in Itachi’s neck and lets his brother hold him as he hasn’t since he was a child. He brings his hands up and around the play with his hair, the same way he used to, and it’s just as soft as he remembers. Six years of missing each other poured into the embrace.

Even under the circumstances, the relief at finally, finally being allowed to be close to his brother, to feel loved- for all it consumed his mind, Sasuke’s not sure he realized just how much he needed it until now, this simple closeness. This clarity of love, however twisted it’s become.

* * *

They’re both near to nodding off when Sasuke whispers into the hollow of Itachi’s neck, lips tingling where they brush over his skin.

“I love you, Itachi. I could never- I won’t love anyone else the way I love you.”

“I wish you would.”

“No, you don’t.”

It’s silent so long Sasuke thinks Itachi may have fallen asleep, but he hears it just as he’s drifting away into unconsciousness, himself.

“No. I don’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final update will likely be posted ~~around the 21st~~ _sometime soon, I came down with a real solid flu so it'll be a bit late_ ❤️ I may write a few little drabbles/one-shots in this universe once this is done!
> 
> **P.S.** _I think, once I finally re-watch/re-read Naruto, I'm going to revise this a little. My memory doesn't feel like it's giving me a good enough grip of the characters. Still, they're a delight to play with!_

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoy reading this little bit of impulse fic as much as I did writing it! Feel free to say hello or drop a request in the comments or [on tumblr](https://dirtybirdie.tumblr.com) ❤️


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